Pathfinder! You've been assigned to travel, incognito, to the city of Elidir in Isger. Isger, site of the vast carnage of the Goblinblood Wars, remains under the de facto control of Cheliax through its puppet governor, Steward Hedvend. Suffice it to say, Pathfinders aren't particularly welcome in the country.
Nonetheless, a secret cell of Pathfinders have been operating for several years out of the basement of a temple of Erastil on the outskirts of Elidir. Most of the Pathfinders in Elidir are engaged in tracing the oral traditions of a native tribe of humans virtually wiped out centuries ago when Cheliax occupied the land. However, other missions are occasionally run out of the hidden lodge, and it's not clear yet what task you'll be asked to perform.
When you arrive in the evening of a warm spring day, Elidir's temple to Erastil is empty. The place looks more like a hunting lodge than anything else: elk iconography adorns the walls, and the furnishings are simple but well-made wooden tables and chairs. A note placed on a heavy pulpit reads "Faithful seeker, rest your aching legs in the basement. Others will arrive soon and then the sermon will begin." The basement, accessed via a trap-door, is also simply furnished, but contains several cots, basic survival tools, and travel supplies.
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You already realized that Almaas is a Dwarven archer and devout follower of Erastil.
He wears no armor and is groomed well but has a slightly arrogant and distant behavior.
And although he seems wise and usually has a point he is really going on one’s nerves with his preaching.
When the group arrives he starts again.
”I told all of you what is at stake here! My reputation! I want you all to behave and be civil as this is a temple to Erastil! For once, I hope that you have listened to my preaching and understand that it is necessary to embrace what we are offered and that maybe you see a spark of family, community, and duty in your hearts!“
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Next to join you is a middle-aged Taldan man. He appears to be quite strong and an iron holy symbol of the Taldan deity Kurgess hangs around his neck. He is clad in a steel breastplate and carries the traditional Taldan buckler and falcata combination. A quiver of leather-wrapped javelins is on his back.
You've seen him around Isger the past few days overseeing athletic competitions in accordance with the tenets of his faith.
He takes a seat before reaching into a satchel and gently pulling out a small spiny creature curled up into a ball which he rests on his lap.
"Greetings. I am Tachonius, inquisitor of Kurgess. When not serving the Society, I put the words of The Strong Man into action by assuring that athletic competitions are conducted fairly and without the aid of magic."
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A rather strikingly good-looking fellow enters next, accompanied by a large tiger that looks as though it stepped right out of the heavens. Dawa Kookpa is an aasimar, though he is scarcely different from a human in appearance, except for his looks, which are practically godlike, or at least he seems to think so. "Never fear, never fear, your prayers have been answered! This will not be yet another dull and dangerous mission, for this time the society has seen fit to send along one - myself, in case that were not obvious - who is renowned for his ability to entertain. I shall be sure that you will not get bored! Here, let me show you!"
Without waiting for any further encouragement, Dawa Kookpa launches into an aria, singing in Celestial about the wonders of the moon in the heavenly sky.
Although you can see that he has some training in singing, it's all a bit screechy actually. However, when, in the midst of a particularly soulful invocation of the lunar mysteries, as if haunted by unseen troublemakers, he suddenly trips and nearly falls right through the trap-door, but then manages to - just - cling on to a handhold while still attempting - and failing - to hit the highest note of the song - well, the effect of all of that is rather hilarious.
In the background, the tiger can be seen, rolling his eyes.
"Ah, and this is K'nai. K'nai the Fourth, to be precise. He is my faithful companion. Some say that my relatives in heaven sent him to look after me, but I can't think of why that would be necessary. He and I shall be most honored to accompany you all, though that is certainly a mere fraction of how honored you must feel, as we wander about this den of devils."
He unfurls a large banner, attached to a longspear that looks as though it has never been used, upon which the Pathfinder glyph of the open road is prominently displayed. "What could possibly go wrong?"
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"Well, I hope arriving after a question such as that is not some ill omen." Sauntering into the room is a tiefling in the latest fashion. "Though after such a performance, I would assume things can only improve. Thus, I find myself standing before you. Izlin Greymantle at your service." He pauses a moment, allowing for any questions or introduction before moving toward a comfortable looking chair and settling in.
The small Mephit flies in and sizes up the party. He begins to dance mid-air to the bard's music.
"Now that is what I am talking about. Someone that knows how to have some fun."
The elemental grins.
"You will have to excuse Xilt. He is a stuffed shirt in company but he does know his stuff when it comes to spells and stuff."
After several minutes of waiting, you all hear footsteps coming down the stairs. A tall, gangly man moves awkwardly into the basement. But he has a broad smile and intense round eyes as he looks over each of you carefully. ”Fellow Pathfinders! You honour me with your presence. My name is Cyrul, and I’ve been assisting with some of the explorations we’ve been conducting throughout Isger. I travel widely, you see, and have encountered many strange and wondrous things! But I can see that some of you are anxious to know why you’ve been gathered together on this lovely spring evening, so I’ll save those tales for another day.”
He smiles as he pulls a small scroll from a pocket of his brown robes. ”Some years ago, in my wanderings through this region, I befriended a man named Dalviss Crenn, an adventurer like yourselves. Dalviss retired shortly thereafter and opened a tavern in the town of Dustpawn. We’ve maintained a correspondence ever since, as Dalviss is something of an amateur astronomer just like myself. What wondrous things our eyes can see by peering into the beauties of a clear night’s sky!”
Cyrul sighs wistfully. ”Well, just a few days ago, I received a letter from Dalviss. He says that a falling star appeared one night and crashed near Dustpawn. Only, Dalviss observed the object through his telescope and said its movements were different than any falling star he’d ever observed before! And, since its crash, he reports several oddities in town. Dalviss asked if I could come and investigate, but, alas, my voyages take me elsewhere.”
Cyrul’s face brightens. ”But that’s where you come in! As you’re all between missions at the moment, would you do me a personal favour? Travel to Dustpawn—it’s only a few days’ southeast of Elidir—and see if you can assist my old friend. You never know what may lead to a new discovery worthy of the Pathfinder Chronicles, and, if nothing else, it’ll help familiarise you with Isger and its people for future missions in the region. What do you say?”
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Almaas raises an eyebrow.
”A personal favor? I am in a temple to Erastil and am certainly willing to invest in a community... in this case the Society and a friendship. Maybe this will lead to new bonds. But be aware dear Cyrul that I am a merchant and will use this opportunity to build new trade routes. If you could send a letter to your friend to convince him to help me lower margins for goods from Dustpawn for fair trade to people that cannot afford much then I would very much appreciate that!“ Almaas says and looks at Cyrul expectedly.
Cyrul listens to your comments. "I think you may be right, Dawa! I'm sure if you ask, Dalviss will be happy to show you his telescope. Taman, please take the opportunity to rest here tonight--there's no need to travel in darkness. I'd also suggest that, come morning, you purchase any supplies you think necessary here in Elidir before you leave. Dustpawn is a small town, and you'll have a limited selection there. Now, Almaas, I'm certainly happy to enclose a letter to Dalviss to introduce and recommend you. Any trade negotiations, of course, will have to be worked out between the two of you. Oh, ask Dalviss to show you his magnificent magical halberd! He used to strike such a dashing pose with it back in the day."
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Tachonius strokes his chin in contemplation as his other hand gently pets his familiar.
"I have never been to Dustpawn, but I have seen my share of oddities. But like with Almaas as a servant of The Strong Man, I too have an interest in the well-being of a community that might be in danger and not even realize it. Perhaps Almaas once this ordeal is over we can help the town organize a festival to take the peoples' minds off any trouble."
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Xilt shifts back a forth a bit. His study of Geography is patchy at best. It was never one of his areas of focus at the academy and generally not altogether all that useful a field of study.
"What a bother! Excuse me for a moment while I fill the gaps in my knowledge."
Xilt sequesters himself with an arcane tome in a corner studying a spell. He then speaks words of power and several quills begin to float and rapidly fill a ledger book with scraps of information gleaned from around the globe. After a moment of reflection Xilt is able to share his revelation with the group.
"For starters we might want to contact Elladas. He is a former Pathfinder that is working as a smuggler there. Also if we require healing there is a temple devoted to Sarenrae. That is handy to know. The rest is simply a bit of background knowledge that may or may not be of use."
Xilt will cast False Life, Extended and Ablative Barrier, Extended both at caster level 10 before retiring for the night.
The Salt Mephit rubs his hands together seemingly excited to be entering a dry wasteland.
"Nice and dry. Just how I like it. Did I ever tell you about the salt baths I used to take on the Elemental Plane of Earth?
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Almaas is satisfied that they can enjoy the temple a while longer.
”You have not told us about the salt baths but I think that now is the time to share and to bond! Think about it! This is important as a community is only strong if there is a sense of union! I of course will share my philanthropic trade expansions with you as well! Well, it all started ... “ he says and starts a not very interesting or structured tale on doing business and doing good.
Morning comes and, after some final preparations, you set off for Dustpawn. You make good progress on the first day, as even though he's a dwarf, Almaas easily keeps up with the rest of you! Having covered almost 24 miles, you set up camp in the sparsely-forested plains of the Isger hinterlands. That night, over the campfire, the conversation bounces around until people start talking about their most harrying experience as a Pathfinder.
After sorting out watches, your night passes uneventfully. You make good progress again on the second day, The landscape you're travelling through is sparsely populated, though you do find some tracks that are probably wolves or hyenas, and another set of tracks that most likely belong to hobgoblins. You figure another full day of travel tomorrow should see you pass through the hills in the distance and reach Dustpawn by sunset--assuming you can find a crossing over the river that you know is somewhere ahead. That night, around the campfire, talk turns to why you joined the Pathfinder Society.
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Almaas looks at Taman like a father would look at his misbehaving son.
"The money drew you to the Society? Oh well, what about community? Common goals? My family has deep roots in the Exchange faction of the Pathfinder Society. Thus, my brothers Jangafzaar, Toral and Sadaf are all members of the Pathfinder Society as well! I do not want to hide that my brothers Toral and Sadaf have less altruistic intentions for joining the Society but we are working for more trade which in my opinion will ultimately lead to more prosperity for all communities." Almaas states with a condescending look on his face.
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Xilt nods at the mention of the Exchange.
"Yes. It has been a very profitable experience. I have picked up many a good deal with these connections."
"Might I invite everyone to sleep in my personal dimension tonight?
I am sure that wilderness has a certain rustic charm but I prefer a safer and more controlled environment."
He casts before bed, Extended Mage Armor, False Life and Ablative Barrier to last into the next day.
The Mephit turns to the party with his hands on his hips.
His tone is wry and it is difficult to tell if he means what he says.
"Slave labor I tell you. This man sleeps and I have to stand guard all night with no pay. I tell you I am thinking of starting a union for enlightened familiars and animal companions."
He begins to chant.
"Give me a U, give me an N, give me an I, give me an O, give me an N. U.N.I.O.N."
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Voice dripping with sarcasm, "Truly little imp, you seem greatly wronged. All the freedom and flitting about. How dare he! I am certain that some Cheliaxian master would be far kinder. Perhaps you should seek out a more prestigious benefactor. One who would not allow your flippancy whist also requiring actual labor and toil without end. Please do tell me how that works out for you." He hoists a toast of his wine flask toward Tzleztor, "Fight the good fight little imp."
In the comfort of an extra-dimensional space, your second night traversing the Isger hinterlands is a comfortable one. The terrain starts to get rougher as you travel on your third day, with the open plains gradually turning into foothills. Late in the afternoon, you reach the banks of the Conerica River--a reasonably fast moving, navigable river that is busy with the spring river traffic between Isger and Druma.
The river ranges from 60 to 70 feet wide, and looks to be about 20 to 30 feet deep. You estimate Dustpawn should be no more than six or seven miles away on the far side of the river.
With but a gesture, Dawa conjures a bridge of what looks like pure, glowing moonlight! The translucent bridge is almost ten feet wide, and easily spans the river. It's a bizarre feeling to cross the Conerica and see the currents almost directly under your feet, but you make it across without mishap.
Once on the far side of the river, it's easy to find a smaller tributary of the Conerica that flows south. A well-used trail parallels this tributary, the Grackle River, and just before the sun sets completely, you notice the remnants of multiple long-abandoned mine sites in the hills all around you.
As for Dustpawn itself . . . well, it doesn't amount to much. The town sprawls organically over several ridgelines that border open fields to the north. It's clear the town never had any sort of central planning--there are a few roads through it, for example, but many of the buildings are only accessible by winding alleys or narrow footpaths. You see a few locals going about their business on the streets.
The elemental turns to Dawa.
"Nice job with the bridge. It was very fancy."
Tachonious politely asks a man fixing a wagon wheel about Dalviss. The man looks up and glares at the inquisitor with undisguised contempt. He spits and goes back to work without answering.
The man grunts and stands up, wiping axle grease on his trousers. "Well, I always did say 'When ya can't trust no one, ya can always trust a dwarf.' Lookin for Dalviss, are you? He runs The Mineshaft. It's right next to the drinkin' pond in the center of town. Just follow the stream thatta way, and you can't miss it." The man sighs and goes back to work.
Following the stream that winds through town, you pass by a few other residents out on the street. None of them so much as nod or wave, and it’s obvious they’re not particularly pleased to see you. The stream leads to a large pond in the southern half of the town. Several ramshackle buildings have been built around it, and one of them has a wooden sign attached by chains to an overhang:
The Mineshaft
Inn & Tavern
It’s dusk when you arrive. The front door of The Mineshaft opens, and a quartet of what look like prospectors—probably having just finished their evening meal—emerge and pass you by.
Inside, you see that The Mineshaft’s front room features a narrow stage for performers, several well-used tables, and a brick fireplace. Behind the bar, a gleaming halberd hangs in a prominent position. Several doors branch off from the main room, presumably heading to kitchens and accommodation for guests.
The tavern looks empty except for a sour-faced woman wiping down a table and an older, though obviously still fit, man organising bottles behind the bar. The man looks up as you come in. ”Welcome to The Mineshaft, travellers! I’m Dalviss Creen, proprietor. Rest your weary legs—here for a meal, a room, or both?” A prominent scar marks his face starting from his forehead and traversing all the way down to his jaw.
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Almaas looks at the establishment with little appreciation.
“Good day sir! We are Pathfinders and have come here to discuss the assistance that you need because of an astronomical phenomenon that you have experienced as well as strange happenings! Could you please elaborate for us what has transpired since you have communicated with our fellow pathfinder who gave us the mission?“ Almaas says and sits down at the bar looking at the ale.
“Oh, and some drinks and food would be appreciated!“ he says with self determination as if the man owes him something.